Tales of the Mental Hospital
by LittleMagenta
Summary: Psychodoughboy reflects on his time spent in a mental hospital while being treated for depression.
1. Default Chapter

**_Prologue:_**

Looking back, I'm not quite sure what tempted them to take me in. Or perhaps it was when I attempted to hang myself from an apartment window when I traveled to New Orleans for Mardi Gras…yes, that must have been it. Eff made a call, and it all went from there. He'd always wanted me to see things the way he did. My damn brother. He was eighteen at the time; I was twenty. I'd been depressed most of my life. Eff had always been the happy one. People sometimes told us that we were like two halves of someone's bipolar disorder. I was the depression, and Eff was the mania.

I ended up staying at maybe three hospitals throughout those years. I met some pretty interesting people.

I'd never before stopped to think that there could be people more messed up than me out there…

God, was I wrong in that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter One:**

I trudged down the hallway, a ward-keeper on either side, silently cursing my brother. Damn him for getting me stuck in this shit-hole. I had the whole thing envisioned - me in a straightjacket, stuck in a room with rubber walls, thrashing about, with people gawking and taking pictures of me from a window.

Instead, I was taken to an almost normal-looking room. The walls were painted white, except for the front wall, which was made out of some sort of clear material. My mood once again took a turn for the worse when I got a look at the boy sitting on the bottom of my bunk bed.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Don't talk to him like that!" one of the ward-keepers snapped. He opened the door and took me into the room. "Tristan. Hey, Tristan, your roommate's here."

The boy on the bed didn't move, and mumbled to the floor when he spoke. "I knew this day would come. I could feel it would be soon. And now you're here." He paused and looked up, into the ward-keeper's eyes. "Are you going to kill me now?"

The ward-keeper sighed. "No, Tristan. Nobody wants to kill you. We want to _help_ you."

"Liar!" he cried, jumping to his feet. "I know you're all planning it! And you won't get me! I tell you, you won't get me, you bastards!"

The ward-keeper remained calm, though I wasn't quite sure how much longer that would last. "Tristan...please just sit back down. This doesn't need to get nasty."

I looked closer at Tristan. He was drenched in sweat and shaking. If only Eff had been there to see it he would have been laughing his ass off. Of course, as I said, our personalities were quite extreme. I merely pitied the sad creature. And I'll admit, perhaps I was also a bit annoyed.

"We had to keep you sedated _all day _yesterday, Tristan. Do you want to live the rest of your life like this?"

Then the boy did what was possibly the strangest thing I had ever witnessed. Still shaking, he shook his head no. He proceeded to slowly drop back down onto his bed, hold his hands over his head, and hum _"Look At Me, I'm Sandra Dee"_. I stared at him, incredulous.

The ward-keeper sighed. "Don't mind it. It calms him down."

"_Won't go to bed 'til I'm legally wed...I can't, I'm Sandra Dee..."_

I winced visibly.

"Now, D..."

"I told you. My name is Psychodoughboy."

I wasn't trying to give the man a hard time. I simply preferred to be called by my name. At any other time the ward-keeper would have fought me on this, that I knew. However, on this particular occasion, after just previously having to put up with this...Tristan, he just wasn't in the mood.

"Sooner or later you're going to have to tell us your real name."

I smiled. A seemingly nice gesture, right? But a smile can be empty. And that's what mine was – empty, just as I was on the inside. And always had been. "Sure I will. Now don't you want to know why my expression conveys such distaste?"

The ward-keeper rolled his eyes, and my smile vanished. The dark feeling in me grew even darker. I wished I had a knife. A razor. Scissors. A paperclip. _Something._

"He'll be fine once he gets used to you. And in the meantime, you'll learn to cope with him. Are you forgetting? That's why you're here. Because you can't _cope_. According to your brother, you can barely cope with _anything_. And not only do you think _you_ should die, you seem to think everyone _else_ should die, too."

I was silent. I let the man's words wash over me like an angry current. I was infuriated, of course, but my face remained stone cold and still. The pause that followed his words seemed to drag on forever, and when I felt I was ready to break it, I slowly licked my lips and leaned in close to the man's ear.

"Look at you, wasting your life watching crazy people in white little rooms day in and day out. I bet I know why you do it. It comforts you to see them squirm, that's why. You're so insecure with yourself, you'll stoop so low to take pleasure in the suffering of mental patients." I tossed my long, dyed purple hair and grinned wickedly. "Such a pity and such a waste. I'm sure you could have gone somewhere. But it's a bit late for that now, isn't it? Don't you think it's about time you just – "

"_Okay_, I've had enough."

I was forcefully shoved into my room. I laughed to myself as I heard the keys jingling behind me. I knew that now I was stuck. Stuck in a little white room with a paranoid little boy who sang songs from 70's musicals to keep himself calm. He was pathetic. He'd be doing himself a favor if he just killed himself and got it over with. It was the same for the ward-keeper. He was angry, but I only told him the truth. Someday I'd get through to him. And as for me, I now had nothing to lose. Someday, it would be my day.

* * *

**A/N:** I'm well aware that this chapter may be less than satisfactory. Truth be told, I haven't written in months, and I remember having a lot of fun planning this little story. I'm starting to get back into the swing of things, get myself back into my writing style. The next chapter will probably be longer, and not so choppy. 


End file.
